


White Noise Can't Drown Out the Heat

by fingalsanteater



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/pseuds/fingalsanteater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziggler's arse, on display at Extreme Rules 2015, was the catalyst. Sheamus is obsessed and Ziggler isn't one to back down from a challenge. It was inevitable, really. </p>
<p>Or, Sheamus is an unapologetic bottom and, once they get started, Ziggler is all too willing to give Sheamus exactly what he wants. (Because, who is he kidding, he wants it too.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Noise Can't Drown Out the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This begins after King of the Ring 2015 and ends after the 05/11/2015 episode of Raw. It references matches and kayfabe events spanning back to Extreme Rules 2015. It is technically kayfabe compliant, though, I ignore anything that may have happened outside Extreme Rules, King of the Ring, Raw and SmackDown for the last few weeks. 
> 
> I'm not even kidding about the "unapologetic bottom" thing. Sheamus really likes getting fucked. 
> 
> Also, if you are looking for King Barrett/Sheamus, well. They don't actually have sex in this, though, the pairing is there just rather matter-of-factly. Their interactions are as friends who occasionally fuck. 
> 
> Oh, and there is a lot of texting in this. Ziggler is _italicized_ and Sheamus is **Bold**.

_long live king barrett :)_  
  
Sheamus frowned at the text. This person wasn't in his contacts, which meant one of his friends had changed their number without telling him or someone had picked his number up from somewhere. It was an annoying text regardless of the source.

He flopped back down in bed, considering. Should he delete it? Ask who it was? Program the number into his phone as "Mysterious Arsehole?"  
  
The content of the text didn't quite rouse his ire enough to warrant a response, so he decided on ignoring it, more curious to see if the person would text again than anything, and returned to idly flipping through channels on the TV. There was only basic cable available at this hotel, however, and it was at that time of early morning when infomercials and reruns of terrible American sitcoms ruled.

  
He should've been sleeping, really, but he was having a hell of a time turning his mind off. Possessed with the contrast thrum of excitement and dissatisfaction, his body seemed to be denying him sleep until he found a way to exorcise the strange energy. Problem was, the source of his frustrations was one who refused to be banished.  
  
Dolph Ziggler got under his skin like no one else.  
  
Sheamus couldn't stop thinking about him.  
  
Sure, he'd gotten the last word, so to speak, at Extreme Rules, but he'd never forget his humiliation at losing the match in the first place. And, he'd never tell anyone this, hardly believing it himself,  but his mind had betrayed him momentarily.  On his knees, heart in his throat, the crowd rhythmically chanting "Pucker up! pucker up," he found it easy to be lulled, found it easy  to actually consider fulfilling the stipulation. Thankfully, he'd come to his senses in time to land a low-blow, but the damage had been done.  
  
Sheamus had seen Ziggler's arse, his trunks ridiculously hiked up, and had thought, "I actually wouldn't mind kissing that arse."  
  
That invasive thought burrowed into his brain, a seed spreading its roots and sprouting other... thoughts that Sheamus tried to hack away before they got out of hand. Still, he wasn't fully able to suppress the memory of his knees on the canvas and Ziggler's tan arse before him; and, when that memory surfaced, a dizzying frisson of heat shot through him before fluttering through his stomach and groin like flames licking at his insides.  
  
Blowing out a loud sigh, Sheamus tried to focus on the TV, which was playing some infomercial for a 1950's soda shop music compilation, whatever the hell that was supposed to be. Dropping the remote, he decided to settle, hoping his disinterest would put him to sleep.  
  
It didn't.  
  
He rubbed one tired eye and then prodded the discolored skin around the other eye gently, wincing at the pressure he put on the bruised tissue. He was at that irritating stage of healing where the bruising was still tender, but also rather itchy. Ziggler had popped him good, spilt his blood, and there was no way Sheamus would ever be done with him now. Not that he wanted to end what he'd started, not with Ziggler now one-up on him, but the more he engaged Ziggler, the more he thought about him. And, the more he thought about him, the more frustrated Sheamus became, those thoughts he was trying to ignore creeping up and sending him momentarily reeling.  
  
Scrubbing his hand over his face and groaning, he punched the "off" button for the TV a bit harder than necessary, and grabbed his phone from the side table. Boredom and frustration had won out.  
  
He read again,  
  
_long live king barrett :)_  
  
Without really thinking about what he was doing, he fired back,  
  
**Should've been me.**  
  
Sure, he was marginally okay with Barrett winning because he liked the fella, but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted to pick up a second reign as king.  
  
His phone buzzed with a message.  
  
_upset you won't be able to decree half the roster kiss your ass? you should keep that in the bedroom, don't you think?  ;)_  
  
**Subjugation via arse kissing, not some fetish, you fuck**  
  
He replied quickly, annoyed at the stupid, sarcastic winky-face and at the implication that he was using in-ring action to get off. Emotions and adrenaline ran high out there, and, sure, sometimes the physical exertion of wrestling wasn't quite satisfying enough. He and Barrett (and others) had engaged in enough post-match fucks for Sheamus to know sex was often the best way to come down off that kind of high. But, that was different than turning the ring into a way to get off. That's not what he had been doing at all.  
  
_uh huh. keep telling yourself that, sheamus. bet you've got your cock in your hand right now thinking about it._  
  
The memory of Ziggler's unfortunately kissable arse still at the forefront of his mind, he found his fingers slid instinctively down his smooth bare stomach and brushed his against his clothed dick. He wasn't even half hard yet, but his current frustration coupled with the idea of this person thinking about him wanking sent arousal spiking through him.  
  
He was angry and he was turned on and he was stupid.  
  
He texted back,  
  
**You seem to be the one with all the thoughts on what I do with my dick. Is thinking about me what gets you off?  
**  
After a second he added,  
  
**Who is this anyway?**  
  
He was stupid but he wasn't that stupid. If he was going to even consider continuing to text this person, he guessed he better know who was on the other end.  
  
There was no answer immediately, so he rested his phone on his stomach and pushed his pants and underwear down over his hips, exposing his rapidly hardening cock. Fisting his cock lazily while he waited, he let his arousal build slowly and just simmer hot in his groin. However, the reply took so long that Sheamus began to tire of teasing and was thinking of just pushing himself over the edge. Then, maybe he'd try sleeping again.  
  
His phone buzzed just as he was speeding up his strokes, so he stilled his hand at the base of his cock, squeezing gently as he read the new text.  
  
_thinking about collecting on what you owe me. i never got my kiss. thinking about maybe you owe me something else too, something to make up for that low blow. how about next time you blow me. pucker up and kiss my cock, sheamus._  
  
Sheamus read the text once, twice, then a third and fourth time for good measure. His body burned, skin fever hot and pricked with sweat, blood rushing in his ears. His cock surged in his hand, tip leaking clear pre-come that slid down the head. He should've fucking guessed.  
  
Goddamn Ziggler.  
  
He didn't even try to formulate a witty reply, too infuriated and aroused to think.  
  
**fuck you ziggler**  
  
He fisted his cock harder. Ziggler's text was seared into his brain and he couldn't turn his mind away from the image of Ziggler's pert arse, couldn't help but imagine what that arse would feel like under his lips, and, fuck it, he couldn't help but wonder what Ziggler's cock would taste like in his mouth. These were the thoughts he'd been trying to ignore. He'd thought his hate for Ziggler blinding, like looking into the sun and only seeing a bright light of loathing whiting out his sight. Now his vision was clearing and he was beginning to see something. Something that still infuriated him, but something he also found incredibly sexy. He found Ziggler alluring in every way.  
  
The screen of his phone lit up with another text.  
  
_the other way around. i'll be the one fucking you. bet you'd take it like a champ. be about the only thing you're champ at now  
_  
All Sheamus could think was "fuck you Ziggler fuck you Ziggler fuck you Ziggler." He dropped his phone on the bed, not bothering to reply, and tugged his swollen, red cock with quick rough strokes. He came to the image of Ziggler stretching him open and fucking into him.  
  
His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it in favor of cleaning up. Climbing back into bed a few minutes later, he found he was finally feeling exhausted enough to sleep.  
  
He chanced a glance at his phone once more before nodding off.  
  
_thinking about it, aren't you?_  
  
In response he simply typed,  
  
**In your dreams**

* * *

  
Ziggler didn't text him again for two days. Not that Sheamus was expecting anything. In fact, he'd deleted their texts the next morning and tried to forget all about his brief descent into madness. Okay, so maybe he wanked to the thought of sucking Ziggler's cock in the shower the last couple of mornings, but it meant nothing. A fantasy was just a fantasy and a few texts didn't add up to anything worthwhile. He was still clinging to his hate just fine, thank you.  
  
In the ring he slapped Ziggler around and told him he was nothing. He came off that match with a win, thanks to Barrett, and an odd ache in his gut. He was irritated and he was aroused and he wanted a good fuck, so afterwards he sidled up to Barrett in the locker room.  
  
"You busy tonight after the show?" Sheamus asked, trying for casual. It'd been a while since they'd done this and he felt a bit awkward asking.  
  
Barrett eyed him warily as he stripped down. "Yeah," he said. "Got a few mates in town who want to meet up while I'm here. Why?"  
  
Well, that was a dead end. Fuck. Sheamus tried to contain his disappointment. He didn't quite manage.  
  
"Ah. No reason."  
  
Barrett laughed too loud, sound reverberating off the walls uncomfortably. "You looking to get off with me?"  
  
Sheamus scoffed. "Well, I was," he said, suddenly infuriated with Barrett's gall and ability to see through him, "but now I just want to knock your fucking head off. Fuck or fight, either'll do."  
  
Raising his eyebrows quizzically, Barrett stared him down for an uneasy few seconds. "Hey," he finally said, holding up his hands. "I'm not turning you down, Sheamus. We've just got to make it quick so I can meet the boys."  
  
"Just forget it," said Sheamus, suddenly not interested in Barrett at all.  
  
"What the hell's up with you?" Barrett called after him as he stormed off.  
  
He wasn't in the mood to try and find someone in a bar or club, so he ended up just heading back to his hotel, angry at his fickle desires and about the fact that he missed the opportunity to sate the growing ache in his balls the best way he knew.  
  
After an unsatisfactory wank in the hotel shower, he climbed into bed exhausted but, again, unable sleep. A cursory glance at his phone just revealed a text from Barrett inviting him to tag along on his meet-up. Drinking sounded good, but he really didn't want to see Barrett after the scene he made earlier. He ignored the text and checked his email instead. Then, his phone lit up with a message. It was Ziggler's number.  
  
_if i'm nothing then why are you so obsessed with me?  
_  
He wasn't expecting Ziggler to try and continue this weird correspondence. Surprised and excited, his heart beat faster in his chest as he formulated a reply.  
  
**Says the man who rushed me twice at King of the Ring last week**  
  
_turnabout is fair play. admit it, you're obsessed with me. it's ok, I don't know anyone who's not  
_  
Sheamus snorted. What a narcissistic little shit.  
  
 Ziggler texted him again before he could even think of a reply.  
  
_so, did you get off thinking about me fucking you the other day ;)  
_  
Straight to the point. Sheamus' dick perked up at the memory and he typed,  
  
**Thinking about my cock again? Now who's obsessed  
**  
_just wondering if you get hard thinking about me. fuels my ego and all.  
_  
He huffed out a breathy laugh, surprising himself. Ziggler was... well, he was amusingly conceited and refreshingly earnest, and Sheamus was finding him rather more tolerable over text than he did in person.  
  
He couldn't really think of anything to say, but he didn't want to end the conversation there, with Ziggler getting the last word, so he texted back,  
  
**Wouldn't you like to know?  
**  
The reply came immediately.  
  
_no, i'd like to see ;)_  
  
Oh. A wave of heat spread through him and pooled in his gut.  
  
Sheamus set down his phone and slipped his pants over his hips, pulled his cock free and squeezed it a few times, deliberating. His cock was big and pink against the pale skin of his hand and stomach, a drop of pre-come glistening at the head. Picking back up his phone, he opened the camera settings. His fully erect cock with his hand wrapped around the base came into view and he snapped a few shots.  
  
Not exactly sure why he was doing it, but too overcome with lust and some twisted sense of one-upmanship to quit now, he opened back up their text string and attached the least blurry pic of his dick.  
  
He hit send and regretted it a second after.  
  
What was he fucking doing sending pictures of his dick to a man he disliked? Sheamus had done a lot of stupid shit, but that had to be one of the most stupid. This whole thing with Ziggler was completely asinine. He dropped his phone, and rubbed his hand through his hair, groaning aloud. In his other hand, his cock wilted a bit. Letting both his hands fall to the bed, he scrunched the coverlet in his fists.  
  
It felt like forever before he heard the buzz of his phone again, though really it had only been a few minutes.  
  
Sheamus read it immediately.  
  
_i knew it. you're so hard for me. i bet it pisses you off that i'm the one getting you that hard. well good._  
  
The text ended there, but another one came in right away.  
  
_think about this now_  
  
It said, and below was a picture of Ziggler from the neck down, taken in a large mirror. He was standing slightly sideways, showing off the swell of his arse, his naked hips thrust forward, hard, thick cock sticking straight out.  
  
Sheamus let out an involuntary moan. His cock twitched against his thigh and began to swell again. Reaching down and rubbing his hand along the length of it, he texted back,  
  
**And what exactly should I be thinking about?**  
  
He jerked his cock slowly, strokes longer than he usually preferred in order to hold off on his orgasm, and watched his phone for a reply.  
  
When the next text finally came in, Sheamus almost lost it.  
  
_i'm going to get you on your knees and you're gonna suck me first,_  
  
He had to pause and close his eyes momentarily before he read on. Heart rate picking up, he sucked in a sharp breath.  
  
_i'll fuck your mouth and make you gag on me. then when my cock is nice and wet i'm gonna flip you over and fuck your ass raw. you'd better be a good cock sucker and get my cock so wet because that's all you'll get before i spread those pale thighs and fuck that ass. you're gonna have bruises on your hips in the shape of my hands_  
  
It wasn't the filthiest thing he'd ever read, but the sincerity and passion in that one little text was enough to make it one of the hottest. He could almost hear Ziggler saying it in his deep, American accented voice.  
  
Ziggler wasn't done texting yet.  
  
_you're gonna take my cock like a good boy, sheamus_  
  
_youre gonna take my cock until you're screaming and then let me fill you up with cum  
  
tell me you're gonna take it. you said you're a real man. take my cock like a man  
_  
Fuck. Breath coming quick, he could barely type, his hand moving on his cock faster, hips thrusting his slick flesh up into his fist with quick jerks. He wouldn't give Ziggler the satisfaction of saying yeah, he was losing it over the idea of getting fucked hard by him. Having to type out his response slowed him down, made him think, and, while he was still letting his desire rule his actions, his words were muzzled by his ability to type one-handed and the fact that he had to stop and think in order to get any words out at all. Sheamus couldn't guarantee he wouldn't say anything Ziggler wanted, wouldn't do anything Ziggler wanted, if they were actually skin to skin. He was stubborn, but, when pushed over the edge like now, he found it easier to fall, found it easier to crash headfirst rather than swerve.  
  
**yeah u think u could fill me up Ziggler well u just try** _  
_  
That's all he could manage this close to orgasm; that's all he could say without giving everything away. This strange desire for Ziggler was burning him up, a wildfire that he couldn't douse (and wasn't sure he wanted to now that he'd allowed it to rage; he was willing let the fire lick through him and see what sprouted from the ashes).  
  
The next message was a picture of Ziggler pushing the slick, swollen head of his dick through the tight circle of his thumb and forefinger. And, that was it; Sheamus was coming hard, vision darkening as he spilled all over his hand and stomach.  
  
It took Sheamus a while to come down from his orgasm, but eventually he wobbled to the bathroom on shaky legs.  
  
There were no new messages from Ziggler when he came back. He lay in bed, scrolling through their last texts. As he read, he was struck by the realization that they were both fucked.  
  
It was evident Ziggler was getting off just as hard as Sheamus was in their conversations. Which lead Sheamus to wonder exactly why Ziggler was carrying on with him in the first place. Was he really interested in some kind of... relationship? It seemed unlikely, but Sheamus supposed Ziggler's feelings could be just as confused as his own, both of them suffering from some fucked up mix of hate and lust.  
  
Finally, Sheamus decided on a response to Ziggler's last picture message.  
  
**So how hard did you cum thinking about me?**  
  
He closed his eyes and floated between wakefulness and unconsciousness. His phone buzzing on his stomach with a message roused him just enough to read it.  
  
_maybe next time I'll let you hear me ;)  
_  
Sheamus rolled his eyes at the assumption there would be a next time. (Who was he kidding, of course there would be.) He didn't bother responding, just rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

 

He was hanging off the middle rope, watching Ziggler and Neville high-tail it back up the ramp, the roar of the crowd and his own heavy breathing too loud in his ears. Glancing over at Barrett against the turnbuckles, he found he looked just as dazed as Sheamus felt. Sheamus hated losing a match, and he especially hated losing to Ziggler.

  
Still dazed, he and Barrett dragged their sorry carcasses back to the locker room, dodging an interview seeking Renee Young as they navigated the halls of the arena.  
  
The shared locker room was blissfully empty, everyone else milling about or warming up elsewhere. Barrett was frowning heavily, pulling off his wrist and elbow guards with excessive force and throwing them down in his bag. Sheamus wasn't faring much better, seething silently and clenching his jaw so hard his teeth ached.  
  
"We'll get them next time, mate," said Barrett, his low, rumbling voice breaking the tense silence.  
  
"Yeah," Sheamus replied automatically, not hearing what Barrett had said, too focused on what he was going to do to Ziggler next time he got him in the ring. A brogue kick or two, at the very least, he reckoned. Getting him on his knees, pulling his hair and slapping him around some more sounded good too.  
  
"Your offer from the other day still on the table?" Asked Barrett, voice pitched lower than normal. "I'm still interested."  
  
Sheamus was digging through his bag, looking for his hat, and thinking about Ziggler and what he wanted to do to him and whether he should be expecting a text from the little fucker tonight. And whether that text-- probably just Ziggler gloating-- would turn into something more like last time. And what had Ziggler meant by letting him hear him come?  
  
Barrett snapped his fingers loudly, drawing Sheamus' attention.  
  
"Well, do you want to fuck or what?" He asked.  
  
Sheamus' furrowed his brow. "Fuck who?"

What was Barrett talking about?

Barrett sighed and mumbled under his breath. 'Fuck who' he says." He continued, "The man who is here offering?" He cupped Sheamus' chin roughly and forced eye-contact. "You doing okay?" He asked, suddenly concerned. "You seem... do you need to get checked out?"  
  
Sheamus jerked his chin from Barrett's grasp. "I'm fine," he huffed out. "Just thinking about what I'm gonna do to Ziggler next time I get my hands on him."  
  
Laughing, Barrett said, "Well, hang it up for a bit, yeah. Think about something else. You coming back to my room with me or not?"  
  
Sheamus considered it. Getting well and truly fucked by Barrett would probably be good for him. Maybe it'd make him forget, that despite wanting to kick Ziggler in the face, he was also struggling with wanting Ziggler to fuck him through the mattress. He just wanted to go back to his hotel room and wait for Ziggler's inevitable text. It was pathetic and infuriating, this desire. He wished he could just turn off the part of his mind that found Ziggler attractive, leaving his dislike for the man untainted by lust.  
  
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Barrett said, "I'll take that as a no, then?" He put his hand on Sheamus' shoulder, and asked, "Seriously, what the hell's up with you?"  
  
"I'm alright," Sheamus said, embarrassed, and reached up and patted Barrett's hand, "Just tired, I guess."  
  
They finished getting cleaned up and parted ways, Sheamus promising Barrett that he'd get some rest.  
  
"Can't get one over on Ziggler if your head's not on straight," Barrett had said in the place of a good-bye.  
  
Sheamus' phone felt hot and heavy in the pocket of his jeans as he walked away.  
  
There'd been no telltale buzz of a text by the time he reached his room. Frustrated and anxious, he flung his hat on the desk, pulled off his vest and untucked his shirt. He supposed he could get dressed for bed, but he wanted to see where his texts with Ziggler went first.  
  
Two hours later found Sheamus sprawled across the bed, still in street clothes but now sans shoes and socks, angry and textless.  
  
He read Ziggler's last text from the other night several times, imagining scenarios where he'd get to hear him come. After checking his email and other random apps he barely touched, he decided to bite the bullet.  
  
He wrote,  
  
**You'd better watch your back Ziggler because you aren't going to be so lucky next time we are in the ring**  
  
And punched the send button hard with his thumb, stomach churning with nerves.  
  
The response from Ziggler came only a few minutes later, an indication Ziggler might have been waiting around too.  
  
_you watch my back well enough for the both of us  
_  
Sheamus snorted. He left himself open for that one, obvious as it was. He wasn't interested in stupid innuendo tonight, however.  
  
**What was that the other night about letting me hear you cum?  
**  
_no foreplay tonight? come to terms with how much you want my cock, huh?  
_  
Sheamus wouldn't call it coming to terms, but he couldn't deny any longer that he was more than interested.  
  
**This doesn't mean I'm not still going to kick your head across the ring next time we're out there  
  
** It was the closest thing to a "yes" he could muster.  
  
His phone was silent for a long several minutes, and Sheamus began to worry his last text had been the nail in his coffin. Maybe all Ziggler wanted was explicit confirmation he wanted to fuck him? And then he'd use that information against him somehow? He wouldn't put it past Ziggler, but Sheamus had enough evidence to use against Ziggler too.  
  
He jerked as his phone vibrated and then continued to vibrate, indicating a call rather than a text.  
  
"Ziggler," he said, by way of a normal greeting.  
  
Ziggler laughed and replied, "Sheamus."  
  
The following silence stretched on uncomfortably, until Sheamus finally broke.  
  
"Call just to hear me breath?" He asked snidely.  
  
"Answer my call just to hear me breath?" Ziggler countered. "I thought you were more curious about hearing me do something else?"  
  
Sheamus worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He was unsure of what to say, reluctant to sound foolish.  
  
"Do you..." he started, then hesitated again for a long moment.  
  
"Do I know how to have phone sex? Better then you," said Ziggler.  
  
Blood pounded loud in Sheamus' ears. "Shut up," he growled.  
  
"You typically don't tell the person on the other end to shut up. Just a tip. Maybe start with a little 'what are you wearing' or 'are you wet for me, honey?'" Ziggler was practically purring and Sheamus' dick swelled uncomfortably in his jeans.  
  
"I don't care what you're fucking wearing, Ziggler. You shouldn't be wearing anything. The only thing that should be touching your body is my lips on your cock."  
  
Ziggler's breath hitched, sound sharp and quick and piercing right through Sheamus, shattering him. Just that little intake of breath, and Sheamus needed to hear more sounds like that, needed to hear Ziggler's moans and breathy panting.  
  
"I'm still in my jeans," said Sheamus. "But my cock's so fucking hard. I've got to-- hang on." He fumbled with his phone a bit, finally finding the button for speaker.  
  
"I've got you on speaker. Can you hear me?" He asked.  
  
Ziggler answered, amused," Yeah, you gonna do a strip tease for me over the phone?"  
  
"I'm not much of a dancer," Sheamus said, unzipping his fly, hoping the sound of the metal teeth was loud enough for Ziggler to hear, "but I know how to get my clothes off."  
  
"And how good are you at sucking cock? You never told me," Ziggler said, humor falling from his voice and being replaced by a tightness, an edge of desperation.  
  
Already out of his jeans and underwear, he finished pulling his shirt over his head and said, "I'm good. I can take your whole cock in my mouth, swallow you so far down my throat-- all you'll feel is my mouth and throat working on you..." He trailed off, distracted by the "mmmmm" sound Ziggler was making.  
  
"That's-- that's good," Ziggler said. "Keep going. You're doin' okay."  
  
Sheamus was at a loss; he'd been caught up, just saying what came to mind, but now he was thinking about the sounds Ziggler was making. He'd just been squeezing the base of his cock, trying to hold off because he was afraid he'd go off too quick if he let himself get going. Giving in and stroking his thumb over the wetness at his tip, he let out a gasp.  
  
Moaning, Ziggler said, "Touch yourself for me, that's it. Imagine it's my hand. Go slow."  
  
Closing his eyes, Sheamus tried to imagine his hand was someone else's, tried to imagine Ziggler was there panting wetly into the juncture of his neck and shoulder as he jerked him off. He'd lick Ziggler's palm, tongue laving the grooves the lines made and...  
  
Struck with the image of what that'd look like, he gasped out, "Lick your hand for me-- your palm-- and get it real wet. Won't be as wet as my mouth, but it'll have to do until I get my mouth on you."  
  
"Is that a promise?"  
  
The sounds Ziggler made as he licked his palm were obscene, were filthy, and Sheamus was fucking seeing stars, every desperate thrust up into his fist bringing him closer to the edge.  
  
"Y-yeah, yeah," Sheamus panted. "That's a fucking promise. Just like you said. I'll suck you so good and then I'll take your cock and--" Ziggler groaned, harsh and throaty and Sheamus had to pause, had to still his hand before he came right there.  
  
"Fuck," breathed Ziggler.  
  
"Can I ride you?" Asked Sheamus. "I want you under me and I'm going to ride your dick 'til you're screaming. Can I?"  
  
"F-fuck." Ziggler said again. His breath was coming faster, short and sharp. "Yes, yes, you can sit on my cock. I'll fuck you any way you want."  
  
Sheamus could tell Ziggler was close; he wasn't too far off himself. "Come for me," he said. "Come for me, Ziggler."  
  
Ziggler was just as loud as he expected, one long, loud continuous shout followed by shuddery gasps. It was too much for Sheamus, too hot and too intimate, and he was coming too, following up Ziggler's shout with his own.  
  
They came down together, the only sound their breath as it slowed. Sheamus' heart was still beating fast in his chest and he pressed his clean hand to it, feeling it thump under his fingers. What they were doing, what they just did... it was ridiculous. He laughed, shaky and awkward.  
  
"What?" Asked Ziggler.  
  
"I was just thinking if we were going to fuck we should've just done it," he said, incredulous. "You could've just come to my room or me to yours, doesn't matter."  
  
"Nah," Ziggler said casually. "Where's the fun in that? We start with some flirting, build the anticipation. Next time you promised to suck my cock, so we've got that to look forward to."  
  
Sheamus snorted. "I also promised I'd kick your head off next time I got you in the ring."  
  
"You can try," said Ziggler, unconcerned. "And you're still gonna let me fuck you afterward."  
  
"Of course." Now that Sheamus wasn't pretending he didn't want Ziggler's cock, there was no way he wasn't getting fucked within the next few days.  
  
"You're easy after you come," Ziggler chuckled. "It's a date, then. Wear something nice."  
  
"I'm sure I'll manage better than you and your... denim vest," said Sheamus, offended on behalf of his excellent sense of style.  
  
"What happened to not caring what clothes I'm in?" Somehow Sheamus could hear his smirk.  
  
Sheamus' head was still muzzy after that orgasm, but his body was buzzing with anticipation for the next time. "Just you wait, fella," he said. "When I'm done with you-- in the ring and out-- you'll be spent for days."  
  
"Looking forward to it," Ziggler said, tone earnest and full of its own sort of promise.

* * *

  
Taking a seat at the commentary table was just an excuse to cause problems. Sheamus wasn't in a match tonight, but he sure as hell wasn't going back on his promise to cause a little trouble with Ziggler, and being ringside offered him the best chance at that. And he'd even dressed nice for their "date" afterward. (Though, he hoped the date involved little to no clothing.)  
  
The first time Sheamus saw Ziggler that night, he was coming down the ramp. It wasn't until he was in the ring that Sheamus got a good look at him and discovered he had a thing for guys in eyeliner. Or, maybe he just had a thing for Dolph Ziggler in eyeliner. It was surprisingly hot, regardless. If his mic weren't live, he'd be taking in a big shuddery breath at the sight. He shifted and adjusted his mic, and tried to focus on the match, which got underway when Ziggler unexpectedly kicked Barrett.  
  
He watched for an opening to distract Ziggler and hand Barrett the win, all the while trying not to go Brock Lesnar on Michael Cole, who was wearing on his last nerve.  
  
When Barrett finally pinned Ziggler and left him dazed in the middle of the ring, Sheamus made due on his promise. He slapped Ziggler around the ring, saying whatever degrading thing came to mind and then brogue kicked him in the head.  
  
He wasn't considering the blow job he was going to give Ziggler later an apology for the rough treatment, but he supposed it could be.  
  
"Hey," said Barrett later, slapping Sheamus on the back as he loitered around the halls waiting to catch sight of Ziggler. "You really got yours, huh? Ziggler's going to be feeling that for a while."  
  
"Yeah," said Sheamus, lips curling into a smile. "Haven't quite got mine yet, but, yeah. Good match." Turning to face Barrett, he squeezed his shoulder.  
  
"Thanks. Nice to have another win under my belt as King Barrett," he said, and chuckled slightly. "Though, I'm wondering now if I bit off too much. Did I really tell Ziggler that I'd make him my royal arse-kisser?"  
  
Sheamus had forgot about that. "You'd better queue up then, because I was first," he said, an odd feeling churning in his stomach.  
  
Barrett gave him a long, curious look that made Sheamus feel as if he were under a microscope. Finally, Barrett said amicably, "No one bloody-well tells the King to queue up. But, since you're my mate, and all..."  
  
Sheamus was about to reply, but over Barrett's shoulder he spied Ziggler, dressed in street clothes. Their eyes met and Ziggler quickly mimed something that looked like Sheamus should be expecting a text or call. Or, maybe he should call Ziggler? Ziggler's mime skills needed work. Before Sheamus had it figured out, Ziggler turned the corner and headed towards the exit.  
  
Sheamus said a hasty goodnight to Barrett, not caring that he seemed puzzled by Sheamus' sudden need to leave. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket on the way to his car, so he stopped to check it. It was Ziggler's hotel (same as his), and room number. His heart skipped a beat.  
  
Once back at the hotel, he found the walk to Ziggler's room to be excruciatingly long, his stomach a mess of nerves and excitement and low simmering arousal.  
  
Ziggler, still in eyeliner and wearing a plush hotel robe, ushered Sheamus in the room as soon as he knocked.  
  
"I would've answered the door wearing nothing," he said, "but I'm not that much of an exhibitionist."  
  
Sheamus stepped closer to him, close enough to reach out and wrap his fingers around the loosely tied belt of the robe. "Well, there's no need to cover up now," he said, and pulled at the knot. The robe fell open, baring a tan expanse of skin and Ziggler's half-hard cock. Sheamus couldn't wait to get his mouth on it.  
  
He dropped to his knees and Ziggler's breath hitched. Ziggler shrugged the robe off his shoulders and tossed it somewhere across the room. Sheamus ran his hands up Ziggler's thighs, kissed and sucked at the smooth skin at his hip.  
  
"Eager," he murmured as Sheamus breathed against the tip of his cock.  Taking the head in his mouth, he slid his lips down Ziggler's length, until his cock was at the back of Sheamus' throat. He swallowed around it, eliciting a gasp from Ziggler that went  straight to Sheamus' already achingly hard dick.  
  
"Fuck, Sheamus, that's-- ah-- good," he said as Sheamus moved his lips and tongue on him, using his hands to jerk him into his mouth when the back of his throat became too sore to take him deep.  
  
At some point Ziggler knocked his hat off and threaded his fingers into Sheamus' hair, yanking gently on strands, but not dictating the pace. Squeezing Ziggler's hips and kneading his arse, Sheamus fucked Ziggler with his mouth until his jaw ached. When he pulled off, his chin was as spit-slick as Ziggler's cock.  
  
Ziggler cupped his jaw, fingers skimming the braids of his beard, until, Sheamus, following the motion of his hand, looked up at him. "God, you look good on your knees," Ziggler said, whispering like the thought was a secret he'd rather keep.

Sheamus swallowed heavily, and Ziggler trailed his hand over his chin, smearing the slickness there, then down Sheamus' throat.    
  
"Can I fuck you?" Ziggler asked, and Sheamus' heart leapt. Ziggler could probably feel it beating there, where his hand was caressing the skin between his collar bones.

Sheamus wanted to say something snide, because he hated that Ziggler had to ask, but he couldn't manage it, not with Ziggler's eyes boring into his, half-lidded and dark and earnest.

"Yes," said Sheamus.     
  
Ziggler dropped his hand from Sheamus' jaw and turned, giving Sheamus a perfect view of his arse for a few brief seconds before he climbed into bed, getting comfortable against the pillows.  
  
"Get your clothes off," he said.  
  
While Sheamus stripped, Ziggler watched, blue eyes serious. Despite wrestling in little clothing, he found the act of undressing before Ziggler almost uncomfortably intimate; their already intense in-ring relationship heightened by their desire for each other.  
  
"Did you really want me to fuck you dry?" Ziggler asked when Sheamus had finished, his cock hard and jutting out in the open air. "Because I have lube." He sounded uncertain, for the first time since they'd begun this, something in Sheamus broke a little. He had to swallow against a lump that rose in his throat. His head was swimming and he hated feeling so off-balance, so he took the few steps to the bed, crawled up to straddle Ziggler's hips, and leaned in to kiss him.  
  
Ziggler bit at Sheamus' bottom lip and sucked his tongue, reached down and fisted his cock a few times, and pressed his own cock against the soft skin of Sheamus' stomach.  
  
When Sheamus' pulled back, Ziggler said, in between kissing the skin of Sheamus' neck and at his collar bone, "I don't know if that was a yes or no."  
  
"It was a just 'fuck me already and quit thinking so much,'" said Sheamus', the thought of the stretch and burn of Ziggler's cock entering him sending a excitement sparking through him.  
  
"Should've known you'd like it rough," he said, huffing out a quiet laugh. "Reach over in that drawer and grab the lube, will you."  
  
Sheamus' leaned over, Ziggler unhelpfully sucking at his nipples as he did so, and pulled out the bottle.  
  
"You want me to slick myself up?" Sheamus asked, as Ziggler continued to work his right nipple with his tongue.  
  
"No," he said, holding up two fingers, "I'm going to fuck you open first."  
  
Ziggler did just that, fucked him open slowly until Sheamus was desperate, his aching cock smearing pre-come against his stomach.  
  
"Can I--" he panted, "can you just..."  
  
"Was wondering when you'd ask," said Ziggler with a smirk, and pulled his fingers out. He rolled over on his back and jerked his cock a few times with his lube slick hand. Sheamus took a few shaky breaths and tried to calm down before taking Ziggler's cock; he'd already been getting close and he didn't want to go off as soon as Ziggler so much as twitched inside him.  
  
Knees, pink from kneeling so long earlier, bracketed Ziggler's waist as Sheamus positioned himself. Reaching back and gripping Ziggler's cock, it took a few tries before he felt it slip into him, the head finally pushing past the tight ring of muscle as Sheamus sunk down.  
  
"Fuck," Ziggler said, as Sheamus let gravity take hold until he was fully seated. Pausing to find the breath that had been forced from his lungs, he relished the feel of the cock inside him, stretching him open. Ziggler rubbed up Sheamus' thighs and hips as he paused to breath, squeezed his pale skin until it turned pink under his hands.  
  
Then, Sheamus rolled his hips and that was it. Ziggler's head fell back and he groaned desperately, "Yes, fu-- come on-- move," as Sheamus rose up and fell back down, his cock thudding on Ziggler's stomach as his did. Ziggler's hands were gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, just for something to hang onto as Sheamus fucked himself over and over on Ziggler's cock.  
  
When the muscles in his thighs began to burn, he leaned forward, placing his hands to either side of Ziggler's shoulders. His cock rubbed on Ziggler's hard stomach, friction good but not quite enough. The change in position did something for Ziggler, and he gasped and said, "Yes, yes, like that," then thrust his hips to meet Sheamus'. Ziggler snaked his hand between them and tugged at Sheamus' cock, but the angle was awkward and he couldn't get a good grip. What little grip he had was enough, however, because Sheamus was so far gone already, so hard up for a good fucking that just having a cock in his arse was enough to make him come. He spilled all over Ziggler's stomach and chest, even got some on his neck and chin. His hole spasmed around Ziggler as he came with a cry, the dark heat that had been filling him exploding through his body and leaving him breathless and exhausted.  
  
"Fuck, fuck," Ziggler panted under him as he continued to thrust up into his body a few more times before coming too, slick and hot inside him. He rode out Ziggler's aftershocks, liking the feeling of his spent cock twitching inside him, then rolled off before Ziggler became too sensitive.  
  
They just lay next to each other and breathed, both muzzy and well-fucked.  
  
Finally, Ziggler said, "Why weren't we doing that all along?"  
  
Sheamus snorted and rolled his eyes. "I recall there being some talk of the fun of building anticipation," he said, parroting Ziggler's words from the other night.  
  
"Our ideas of fun need some work," said Ziggler, huffing out a laugh.  
  
"Hey. What's wrong with the way I have fun?" Sheamus was too pleasantly exhausted to really muster up any real indignation, but he tried. Truth was, this was surprisingly nice.  
  
"Kicking my head in, slapping me around in the ring? And what was that about me not being fit to clean your shoes?"  
  
Laughing, Sheamus said, "Well, it's the truth. You're only fit to fuck me arse."  
  
Ziggler groaned, "Jesus, Sheamus."  
  
Sheamus rolled on his side and propped himself up on an elbow. "I'm not going to stop trying to beat you down in the ring, Ziggler."  
  
Ziggler was still covered in his come, and Sheamus' cock, lying limp against his thigh, stirred at the sight.  
  
"And I'm still going fight back," said Ziggler, running his hand over the side of Sheamus' face and toying with the braids in his beard.  
  
"You'd better," he said, lips forming the words as his mouth met Ziggler's in a kiss.


End file.
